The Great Chronos: Featuring the 6th Doctor
by louismarx
Summary: The Doctor, accompanied by Peri, travels back to Victorian England to solve the mystery of a stage magician who claims to be the master of time.


The Great Chronos

** The Great Chronos.**

Peri.

The Doctor was in one of his moods. I walked behind him as he stalked through the cobbled streets of London. He was being agitated, rude, ignorant. Not that this is unusual, since his regeneration. I don't know why I stay with him; I still love the excitement of travelling, but I found him to be more pleasant company, you know, before.

The Doctor was resplendent in his usual gaudy many-coloured patchwork coat and yellow trousers; I was trying to fit in, dressed as a Victorian lady and regretting it. How did they manage to both wear corsets and breathe? Victorian English ladies must have been made of sterner stuff that 20th century Californians! Why were we here? The Doctor wouldn't say.

"My dear Peri, if I told you I'd have to kill you. Top secret," he announced with a grin. I smiled back, weakly. His comment was too close for comfort. "Only joking," he continued, "I've decided that you need more culture. We're going to see a show. We're going to see a performer who should be ranked beside Houdini in your human hall of fame."

"Who?" I asked, picking up speed, to catch up with the Doctor.

"You won't have heard of him."

"Try me."  
"The Great Chronos!"

"Never heard of him."

"Exactly. No culture. You're lucky I'm here to educate you."

I sighed.

Charing Cross Road was busy with horses and carriages; I think London in Victorian times is also one of the most unpleasant smelling places I've travelled to. The fog was thick; I could see about as far as the Doctor, several steps ahead of me. Because of this, I didn't see where the stranger came from. The stranger, dressed in a tailcoat, top hat, bow tie and dress suit did not look like your typical footpad. With his trimmed goatee beard he looked like a stage magician (or the Master, if he was attending a posh dinner.) He appeared to jump out of nowhere: in a flash of light he had knocked the Doctor to the floor. The Doctor's assailant carried a rapier; he swung it, the Doctor skittered out of the way.

"I'll show you what it means to mess with me," the man sneered. Flamboyantly, he struck out again, this time cutting a tear in the Doctor's coat.

"Now it's war!" the Doctor roared, launching an uppercut at the man and hitting him squarely in the eye. The smartly-dressed man staggered back, swearing and covering his eye with his non-sword hand.

"I'll get you. When you least expect it, I'll be there. When you're asleep, when you're vulnerable. You've ruined me, and in return I will destroy you," he glared over at me and leered, "and your… companion." With that retreated back into the fog. Therev was another crackle of blue light and he was gone.

"Okay Doctor," I sighed. "who was that? Another regeneration of the Master? An old companion? What did you do to him to upset him?"

"I've never set eyes on him before in my life!" The Doctor brushed himself down, then stood with his hands on his hips. "Hmm. Perhaps I haven't upset him yet. Fascinating!" The Doctor was getting quite excited by the mystery. I was a bit more worried by the man's threats as he could seemingly appear out of thin air and attack us at any time. The Doctor took my arm and dragged me along with him.

"Come on Peri; we're going to the one of the greatest musical halls, to see one of these era's greatest performers. That'll take your mind off things."

I wasn't quite reassured; but I thought it could be an interesting evening, so as usual I followed him.

We approached an impressive building: the Alhambra Theatre. With its dome and two towers it dominated the landscape of Leicester Square, contrasting with the more conventional buildings. The sign on the front of the theatre read:

TONIGHT:

THE GREAT CHRONOS

MASTER OF TIME AND SPACE!

"What are you up to?" I asked. The Doctor gave no answer, except an enigmatic grin. "You're going to cause trouble," I insisted. His look was inscrutable: he was definitely up to something.

"The Great Chronos," he said, "was a rising star, compared to Houdini by many, but his gimmick was that he claimed to be able to travel in time. He just vanished into obscurity, around the turn of the nineteenth century. I want some answers!"

"Curiosity…" I said, rolling my eyes.

We sat in the warm, crowded theatre. There was a definite atmosphere of anticipation. A babble of an excited audience filled the inside of the theatre. The Doctor sat impatiently, like a coiled spring, desperate for action. We watched several warm-up acts; the crowd's response was muted, I started to doze off at some points, as it was so stiflingly hot.

The roar of appreciation when The Great Chronos was announced woke me up, with a start. I looked at the Doctor's face before I saw the stage performer. Bad news. The Doctor had a look of extreme annoyance etched on his face. He turned to me.

"It's him!" the Doctor said, outraged.

"Who?"

"Look! My assailant was the Great Chronos!" It was true, onstage, somehow, only minutes after the fight, stood the Doctor's attacker. He didn't look at all like he'd just been in a fight. "That does it!"

"Does what?"

"You'll see." The Doctor folded his arms and sat back, staring intently at the Great Chronos, who stood on the stage producing doves from his top hat.

I always like to try to guess how magicians do their illusions. No doubt the Doctor would normally like to tell me, but he was focussed completely on the stage. His Gallifreyan mind was working. I dreaded the results. Compared to modern illusionists I had seen, on TV, like David Copperfield, the Great Chronos' work seemed tame, so far. The performer was charismatic; the crowd responded to him well. His assistant, who he introduced as Ruby was glamorous, in a glittery costume and peacock-plumed headdress.

"Now," The Great Chronos announced: "time for the grandest magic trick you will ever see. Now you will see me defy the very laws of time and space. Prepare yourselves, ladies and gentlemen, for the Time Machine!" With the help of Ruby, he drew back the curtain, to reveal a giant contraption that filled the back of the stage. It was a large brass coloured machine, covered in pipes and wires, at the top were a series of antenna. To the side of the stage there were a series of levers. Towards the front of the stage was a leather-lined chair. In fact the whole thing looked like a cross between an electric chair and the controls of a more antiquated version of the TARDIS.

The Doctor sat forward, engrossed. I sensed that he was about to act. I braced myself, for whatever might happen next.

Ruby.

Yes, I was the assistant of the 'Great Chronos, Eugene Cuiller, but although I helped him perform his illusions I was not privy to all of his secrets, his most famous one eluded me: The Time Machine.

It started as usual, with some illusions; the usual fare, doves produced from a top hat, I was crammed into a coffin for the disappearing lady act. This was a magician at the zenith of his career, playing to the audience of the Empire: the usual fare was only a warm-up.

It was the Time Machine that everyone wanted to see. Eugene performed a number of tricks with the aid of that grand device. He apparently could, in an instant, transform an egg into a chicken, and vice versa. He could also produce two doves from one; the identical dove, from moments in the future, now occupying the same time. I never saw this act produced with humans, but Eugene claimed it was possible. The crowning glory of his act was instantaneous transportation, of himself, from the front of the stage, to the most expensive box in the theatre, then back again. Many rivals tried to replicate this grand illusion; they came close, with trapdoors, with look-alikes, but none did so as well as The Great Chronos. Did he have some great secret; was the Time Machine genuine?

The performance had gone well so far, and now a hush came over the audience, as The Great Chronos explained his next trick. It would be instantaneous transportation tonight! I performed my duty and drew back the curtain, to reveal the machine. As often happened, there were howls of excitement from the audience. As usual, Eugene selected several volunteers from the audience, to carefully examine the machinery. He chose, to my surprise, a very strangely-attired man. I can only think he must also have been some sort of performer, judging by his gaudy, patchwork coat of red, pink, yellow and green, his bright yellow waistcoat and trousers. He wore a broche of a white cat and had curly blonde hair. He was an enthusiastic volunteer; the first to have his hand up, he bounded onto the stage, along with several more conventionally-dressed gentlemen. As usual, the volunteers were given free rein on the stage, but were told to touch nothing, as it could be dangerous and the Great Chronos would not be responsible for any harm done to them. They took their usual look around the workings of the machine. Surely no-one could fathom how such a device should work? I certainly could not, and I saw it every performance. Then, the volunteers strapped Eugene into the chair. As usual, I ushered the men from the stage, to prepare for the moment when I would pull the level down. The stage would be filled with crackling electricity and The Great Chronos would disappear, only to reappear instantly in the most expensive box seat in the theatre, tonight occupied by the Duchess of York and her family. The oddly-dressed man, however, ignored me.

"Oh no you don't!" he shouted, and leaped over to a particular part of the machine, all wires and dials. Eugene looked surprised, but was at the other side of the stage. The stranger tore at some of the wires; there was, for a moment, a strange roaring sound such as I had not heard from the machine before. Then, smoke started billowing from all around. Eugene frantically waved to me, I understood the signal: curtain down. What havoc had the stranger wrought? I rushed over to where Eugene was struggling to free himself from his bonds. He was enraged. I looked around, the stranger had gone. Eugene pushed roughly past me; stormed off the stage. I followed him; I did not know what he might do: I had never seen such a murderous expression. Likewise, he ignored everyone in the wings, and in the corridor, silently, relentlessly moving forward. To my surprise, he did not follow the oddly dressed man into the audience, but rushed out of the theatre, hailed a stagecoach. I followed him, to his home in Kensington.

I gained access to the rooms, where he lived; he was careless enough to leave the shared rooms' doors open: but not his own. It was locked, a solid door of oak. I waited outside, not sure if I should brave knocking on the door, but what else should I do? My curiosity was piqued, as I heard an unnatural roar from inside the apartment; stranger still, under the door I could see an unnatural crackle of blue night. Was it possible he had another machine?

Steps came closer, from downstairs. I turned around, to my shock, to see the oddly-dressed man. How did he find us here? It was as if he was the hunter and Eugene the hunted, but I had expected the reverse. The gaudily-clad man was accompanied by a pretty young lady. The man stepped forward.

"Out of the way," he said. "You don't know how dangerous your boss is. You're very fortunate that I'm here to stop him!" He barged past.

Peri.

I tried to stop the Doctor from following the magician, but he was adamant. On the way, he explained to me; he had brought us here to check out the Great Chronos. If he was a charlatan, using stage trickery to fake time travel, then the Doctor would have left him alone. As it was, the magician attacked us, even before we had seen his show.

"He didn't recognise me, at the show," the Doctor agreed, "or he would never have let me within a hundred miles of his time machine, let alone on stage. So, this was the first time we met."

"That was a real time machine then?"

"Hmm." The Doctor sniffed, "Terribly crude. Amateurish. But yes. It'll never work again, of course."

"But…"

"But?"

"How could he travel back in time to attack you before the show.."

"Without a time machine?" the Doctor finished my sentence. "Bingo! He obviously has another one. That's why we have to follow him; find the other machine and destroy it. Plus, I need to know who he is. A rogue Timelord, or just a gifted human amateur. Either way, I'm shutting him down!"

We followed him, trailing after his assistant, who we found standing outside the magician's room. She didn't try to stop us. The Doctor picked the lock; one of his many talents. The room was alive with electricity: we searched, that is, the assistant and I searched, while the Doctor stood by the machine, thoughtfully.

"Got it" He cried. "He's back in time. Probably attacking me as we speak." The Doctor wrenched a small copper-coloured lever. Another blue flash of light. The magician stepped out of it, clutching a bruised eye. Straight from his fight in the past with the Doctor! He looked straight at the Doctor.

"How the devil did you find me here?"

"Simple. We followed you. It was obvious that you had another time machine. The Doctor, as he talked, twisted several switches and pulled several wires. "Not any more though!" Smoke billowed from a grille in the machine's side.

"You've ruined me," the magician said.

"I've saved your life, you fool. Time is not to be messed with. It was only a matter of time before you got trapped somewhere, accelerated your age by pressing the wrong button, or worse, attracted the attention of someone rather less kind than me."

"Kind?"  
"Kind. I'm going to let you live, in freedom, as long as you never rebuild your machine. I know others who wouldn't be so generous."

"You're too kind," the man sneered, drawing his sword again. "But you are going to pay." The magician was so intent on the Doctor, he did not notice me, standing to the side, or my foot, hidden beneath my long dress. He tripped, fell. The Doctor snatched his sword. The magician started to weep.

"Ruined," he said, as the enormity of it hit him. Humiliated in front of his public, his greatest, most profitable trick no longer accessible.

"Sir-" the assistant, Ruby, stepped forward. "I beg you to leave Mr Cuiller be! You destroy his property, your lady friend assaults him. I shall call the police. He gave you no cause to do this. Who exactly do you think you are?"

"What?" The Doctor was taken aback.

"She does kind of have a point, Doctor," I admitted.

"Mr Cuiller," he looked from the magician to the assistant, "you were messing with time itself, a monstrous danger to yourself and the very fabric of reality. Reality is a delicate fabric, made of cause of effect. The slightest change could tear a gap that could end everything. I should know- I've seen it before. It's what I do. Save the universe from people who meddle. Now- how did you get the machines?"

"I made a deal."

"With?"

"A stranger. He was obviously disguised. I did not ask too many questions when he showed me the greatest magic trick of all time."

"I'm sure…" The Doctor sneered. "What did you offer him?"

"I promised to follow his instructions. I have followed them to the letter, although I have failed, thanks to you, Doctor. I was expecting your appearance to be different. My part is done and I am no more a threat to you, just as my career is over." The man sighed, then stood up, taking Ruby's hand. "I know no more. I was a pawn. I thought I could win and become something greater. I was wrong."

"Hmm!" The Doctor scowled. "Come on, Peri! We've got better things to do." He turned suddenly, and pointed at the defeated magician. "You had better make sure I don't have reason to find you again." Sometimes, only sometimes, I looked at the Doctor and could really see he was an alien, not the grumpy but kind absent-minded academic that I liked to think of. Now was one of those times.

We talked, back in the clinically white control room of the TARDIS.

"Who do you think put him up to it?" I asked.

"No idea," the Doctor said, troubled. "The Master, an evil future version of myself? Davros? Who knows? I've made quite a few enemies in time. What worries me, is that he seems to have been put in place to distract me. From what? What am I missing? Is there another great trial to come?"

"And why did you decide Chronos had to be shut down before you knew someone evil gave him the machines?"

"I couldn't allow that sort of technology to remain in the hands of a human. It would be like giving a chimpanzee a nuclear bomb!"

"Gee, thanks Doctor." I said. Despite myself, I couldn't resist a smile. Then, as the TARDIS lurched uncontrollably and I steadied myself against the wall I felt almost reassured: business as usual.


End file.
